Next Of Kin (Unnatural Selection #3) (8 page)

“She probably
does. He’s been in a few films. Thank her for me.”

We had a
short list of places where Nick’s card had been used, mostly around
the
Largo
dos Guimarães
, the
trendy bohemian heart of Santa Teresa, so the Internet had assured
me. We played tourist all morning, drinking coffee and
eating
bolos
, looking
at art galleries and boutiques, and showing people my collection of
photos. We found a handful of people who remembered ‘Nick’, but of
all the people who chose a photo and definitely identified it as
the man they remembered, only a quarter of those chose Nick’s—a
result no better than random chance. However,
Senhor
Bettany had apparently enjoyed himself at
many of these places.

Frustrated, sweaty, footsore and stuffed with the snacks
we’d bought to avoid alienating the various cafés and bars in which
we’d done our investigating, we walked up to the
Parque das
Ruinas
, and drank icy
sugarcane juice while I contemplated our next move.

“If Nick was
not here, Anton, what have you learned? And have you proved he was
here?”

“Not
really. I’ve proved it’s more than possible he
wasn’t
, but it doesn’t tell me where he is
now.”

“So we have
wasted our time?”

“Possibly. I’m
sorry.”

“Don’t worry
about my time, Anton. I’m glad to help. And I owe your brother a
favour or two.”

“So do I.”

Having
come this far, we decided to climb the ruined mansion which made
this little park famous, and admired the view over the bay and
city. I turned to ask Nick what he thought of it.

Gabriel raised
his eyebrow when he found me looking at him with my mouth open.

I’d forgotten
I wasn’t with Nick.

I was losing
my marbles.

“Anton, what’s
wrong?”

“Nothing.
Let’s go.”

Purely
because there was no reason not to take every chance for
information, I asked Gabriel to ask the owner of the café near the
ruins if she had seen a pale, red-haired
Inglês
maybe two weeks before. To my surprise, she said,
“
Sim
,” and picked
out Mr Bettany’s picture from the photo collection. She and Gabriel
chatted for a minute or so. Gabriel was wide-eyed with excitement
as he turned back to me.

“She
says Nick wanted to know a good place to hire a car to go to
Beagá—Bélo Horizonte—and she told him the name of a company
here.”

“Does she
remember when, exactly?”

“It was Monday
a week ago, for sure. It was early and the café was quiet, no
others foreigners. She remembered he didn’t seem like a
tourist.”

“In what
way?”

He shrugged.
“Like he wasn’t having fun.”

There
hadn’t been any credit card activity on Nick’s account in the last
five days, but if the transaction was manual, as the others had
been, it could take a while. “Which company was it?”

It
turned out to be a small garage run by her brother in Lapa, one
which used manual verification for credit card transactions. This,
I was sure, was the main reason for using such a minor operator,
instead of one like Hertz or Avis. The manager owner, an elderly
man, was happy to spend any amount of time chatting to us.
Senhor
Guthrie wanted a week’s hire to
Beagá for what reason, he didn’t say. The
Inglês
had paid in cash, but had signed a credit card
slip to cover any unexpected costs. I looked at the slip—the
signature was certainly very like Nick’s. Gabriel asked for any
other information the man might have. The manager scratched his
chin and answered.

“The car was
returned yesterday.”

“Yesterday!
That means—”

The man
interrupted and spoke again. Gabriel frowned. “This is strange. He
says someone
Senhor
Guthrie
hired returned the car for him. A man called Gregorio Goncalves.
Goncalves said
Senhor
Guthrie
had decided to stay in Beagá.”

“Does that
happen often?”

The man
nodded. “He said yes, sometimes. He doesn’t do one-way hires as
such, so this is an alternative. So long as the car is not damaged,
it’s okay.”

The
manager hadn’t picked out Nick’s photo, but that could mean
nothing. If Nick really had hired the car, that means he could be
in Bélo Horizonte right now. But where? Beagá was a huge, sprawling
city I knew almost nothing about.

“Obrigado
,” I
said to the garage manager, who smiled and nodded. “Let’s get out
of here,” I said to Gabriel.

Outdoors, the mid-afternoon sun still beat down strongly.
Gabriel looked at me and, seeing my expression, took my arm. “Come
on. We missed lunch. Let’s have
lanche da tarde
and we can talk.”

We
caught the
bonde
back
to
Largo dos
Guimarães
, and walked
towards the hotel. Gabriel chose a little café. I didn’t pay
attention to which one and didn’t care why he’d picked it. Gabriel
ordered for us both, and when we were alone again, said, “It’s good
news, you think?”

I wiped my
face. Jetlag and emotional stress had caught up with me and were
beating me into the ground. “I don’t know. If it’s Nick, it’s a
lead. If it’s not, then it’s not.”

“Why do you
think it’s not Nick, Anton? Who would pretend to be him?”

“
I don’t know who, or why. But right from when he
disappeared, nothing has fit. I mean, made sense. He says he’s
found someone else, and runs away without another word to me, which
isn’t like him. He doesn’t touch his credit card or bank for weeks,
then suddenly he uses it here all over the place—but only where he
can sign, not use a PIN. Otherwise he uses cash. What was he using
for money until he came to Rio? Where did he get the cash he used
to pay for the car hire? Where is this lover who was so important
that Nick abandoned me and his job—the job he loved—for him? Even
if I didn’t know Nick, I would say it was strange. I do know Nick,
and none of this is the way he behaves. He’s steady and sensible
and rational.”

“And you love
him very much.”

“Yes,” I
whispered. He gave me time to collect myself and blow my nose.
“Gabriel, I know something is wrong, but I can’t prove it. If I
could find him, I would know what it was. I’m going out of my mind
worrying about him.”

Gabriel
patted my hand. “
Eu sinto muito.
”

“Obrigado
.”

“What do you
want to do?”

“I don’t know.
Unless I know where he went in Beagá, how can I find him?”

“What
about this Gregorio Goncalves who brought the car back?”

“How do we
find him? Goncalves is a common surname, isn’t it?”

“Sim
. But we
have to try.”

I stared at
him, my brain too tired to think of how we could even start. Our
food arrived. I couldn’t find any appetite, though it looked
delicious. “I think I need to speak to George Adeyemi and ask his
advice. He was right. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Anton, you’re
being too hard on yourself.”

My mobile
phone rang, and I jumped. I’d told people where I was going, but I
realistically only expected calls from Karl or George. The number
on the screen was neither of them. “Hello? Anton Marber here.”

“Dr
Marber, this is Paul Reynolds from the British embassy in Bélo
Horizonte. Your brother told me how I could contact you. I
understand you’re in Brazil at the moment?”

“Yes, I am, in
Rio de Janeiro. I was thinking of going to Beagá tomorrow in fact.
What’s happened?”

“You’re the
civil partner of Nicholas Guthrie, and his designated next of
kin?”

My heart leapt
into my throat, and I literally couldn’t speak until I took a sip
of water. “Y-yes. Is he...has something happened to him?”

“We don’t
know, but the police need to speak to you. I’m calling you to offer
assistance in this matter.”

“But what
happened?”

“They’ve found
a wallet with his identification in it, an item of clothing,
and...a large amount of blood. They are afraid that he may have met
with foul play.”

“No,
he—
” I covered my mouth
with my hand.
No.

“I know this
is difficult, Dr Marber. If you don’t feel able to come to
Bélo—”

“No. No, I
want to. Uh...tell me who I need to see, and where to go.”

I scribbled
down the details in my notebook, and he said he would also email
them to me. He said he would meet me at the police station the next
day, and recommended a hotel nearby if I didn’t know of a
better.

Gabriel
had sat silently, his expression anxious, as I talked to Reynolds.
I hung up, but couldn’t bring myself to explain.

“It’s bad
news?” Gabriel asked after a minute of silence. “Anton? What can I
do?” He reached over to touch my hand. “Anton, speak to me.”

“Uh...they found Nick’s wallet and shirt and a lot of
blood. In Beagá. They think...maybe he’s been killed.”

Gabriel
crossed himself quickly.
“
Nossa!
I can’t
believe it!”

“Me
either. But they haven’t found him.”

“There is no
body? They don’t know where Nick is?”

“That’s what I
understand.”

“This
Gregorio Goncalves, he could have done it.”

“Yes.
Shit, I forgot to tell them about him.”

I called
Reynolds back and told him about the investigations into Nick’s
disappearance and what we had learned since, specifically about the
car hire. He asked for the details of the garage, and said he would
pass all the information on to the police in Beagá
immediately.

I checked the
time. Britain was four hours ahead of Rio, but it was still early
evening there. “I have some calls to make. Why don’t you stay and
eat and I can meet you at the hotel?”

“I can ask
them to pack this up. It’s no problem. Can I help, Anton?”

“You
already have,
meu amigo
.”

Gabriel
politely ate on the balcony to give me privacy while I called Karl,
then Andy. Andy was horrified at the turn of events, and promised
to pass everything he had on Nick’s companion to the Brazilian
police.

“You realize
we can’t interfere with their investigation, but they can ask us
for assistance.”

“I
thought it was something like that. Andy, was Nick’s companion
called Gregorio Goncalves?”

He hesitated
long enough that I took it as confirmation. “I can’t tell you,
Anton. I wish I could. But I’ll tell you the second I can.”

“Good enough.
Thanks, Andy. God, now I have to call his parents.”

“Wait
until you speak to the police there so you have facts to give them.
For all you know, they’ve misidentified the personal
items.”

“Okay.
Do you think the Brazilian Police can handle something like
this?”

“I think they
should be given the chance to do so. There will be a lot of
pressure on them, with Nick being a foreign national. I hope
they’ve got it wrong, Anton.”

“Me too.
I...don’t know what I’ll do if he’s dead.”

“Without
a body, that’s not the only possibility. Ring me
tomorrow?”

“Yes, of
course.”

I
checked Nick’s bank accounts and email—no activity.
That doesn’t mean
he’s dead.
I pushed such
thoughts away, and sent George Adeyemi a quick email, with a
promise to update him when I learned more.

Gabriel looked
up as I opened the glass door out to the balcony. “All
finished?”

“I’m certainly
done.” He had bought some beer on our walk back, and he offered me
a bottle I gratefully accepted. “How long will it take to drive to
Beagá?”

“Five, six
hours. Don’t worry, I’ve done it many times.”

“I’m not
worried. Not about that.”

“This is
terrible news about Nick.”

“If it’s Nick.
Am I crazy, Gabriel? Have I created this illusion because I can’t
accept Nick left me?”

Gabriel
stared at the view from the balcony and took his time answering. I
drank my beer and tried to quell the sick feeling in my
gut.

“You
know him better than me. His friends, you, all say this is not like
him. You showed me how it’s possible for someone to pretend to be
Nick and still use his identification. His policeman friend said
someone else
could
have used
his passport. There are questions. You are not crazy to ask
them.”

“But....”

“But...it
could be him. Are you prepared for this?”

I exhaled.
“No. Not even a little bit.”

He winced. “I
cannot advise. I have never been married. But I will do everything
I can do to help.”

I
saluted him with my bottle. “
Obrigado
.”

“De nada.
You
want something to eat?”

“No, I don’t
think I can. Are you happy to leave early tomorrow?”

“Com certeza
.
I’ll speak to Reception, explain we have to leave sooner than we
planned. They will understand.”